A Giftful Nightmare
by SanchZeOtaku
Summary: A nightmare that won't stop haunting him and a gift that would continue saving him. ZoSan AU written for the ZoSan Secret Valentine Exchange hosted by turtlefriedrice on tumblr. Matching cover image for the story also done by me. Happy Valentine's Day to my precious Valentine, siamesepriest!


**A/n: Happy Valentine's Day to all my precious readers! Here's a special treat for you all- a ZoSan Valentine's Fic and a matching Artwork!**

**This story and the art is specially dedicated to my valentine, siamesepriest on tumblr, for the ZoSan Secret Valentine event hosted by turtlefriedrice!**

**I hope you liked it! :D **

**For the art, web search this: or just zoom in on the cover art for the story!**

**Lots and lots of hugs, kisses and love!**

**Hope all your dreams came true~ [If you're here reading this does that mean it didn't? Oh well, I shall join you in your quest for true love! xD]**

**Love love love~**

**P.s, review, favorite!**

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***~*A Giftful Nightmare*~***

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"Why are you so utterly useless?!"

He flinched as the perfectly crafted piece of ceramic flew past his ear.

"This and this and this, what am I supposed to do with all this useless junk?! I don't even know why I let you stay here! Kicking you out will make it one less stomach to fill!"

He tried not to wince, as carefully crafted plates, saucers and cups shattered against the wall and lay in unfixable fragments of destroyed effort.

"What are you waiting for?! Go clean that up!"

He ducked his head and squatted by the wall, scooping up each broken shard with trembling hands. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he threw away the shining bits of crockery that were now jagged and disfigured pieces of garbage.

He heard the door slam shut behind him and the lights were flicked off, throwing the small storeroom into complete darkness. He waited a few moments, and when the moonlight shone through the large windows, he continued with his work. It was after two long tedious hours of cleaning up the broken ceramic and cutting his hands and feet in several places, that he allowed himself to slide down to the ground and let his head rest on his knees. He trembled quietly as a stray wind from the open window ruffled his hair, that shone golden in the dim light, and he let his distraught mind allow him a moment of self-loathing and pity. He sat there, in the solitary storeroom, far from the main building, covered in creepers and brambles from years of disuse.

When he had found it, it had been a moment of pure joy and exuberance, like he had stumbled upon the pot of gold that lay untouched and enchanted, at the end of a rainbow. He had snuck in and cleared it, and then he had gotten to work creating the pieces of ceramic he would give his life for. The unused storeroom was his place of peace and solitude, away from the constant torture and disgusted looks that he endured on a daily basis. But it hadn't been long before he had been found out.

His frequent absence aroused suspicion in the other males that dominated the small orphanage. Especially since he was their sand bag, used to hone their skills in kicking and physically abusing people who they considered to be worthless garbage that ought to die on the roadside. He hated them. He hated them so much that every night, when he crawled into his bed, all bloody and wiped out, he would imagine ways of torturing them to death.

But the storehouse had been like a nirvana of sorts to him. An escape from the ruthless bashing and beating he got whenever the boys found him around when they were bored and wanted to show off. So he wasn't really surprised when the male matron – as he called himself – came and beat him up, for being a disobedient and conniving brat who had no discipline or self-respect and lived only to destroy him.

He honestly didn't mind when the man spewed insults at him and even spat at him, he was used to it. But when the man started insulting his work and began throwing it, an unexplainable feeling of rage tore through him. He wanted to shout and scream and beat the man as he had beaten him. But he couldn't. After all, how much damage could a starved 17 year old do against a burly, walking, talking mass of rippling muscles and rock-hard flesh.

So the only thing he could do was watch his hard work being destroyed and then hold the remnants to his chest and silently weep in a corner. He woke up several hours later, after crying himself to sleep, to hear screaming and shouting. He tried to pry open the door, but someone had locked it from the outside.

Seeing no other way of escaping other than the high windows, he hoisted himself up through them and landed painfully on his rear on the outside. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and he got his bearings, he stared with horror at the fire that was swallowing the large boys' orphanage. He ran towards the sweltering heat and watched the flames engulfing the building and reducing it to falling pieces of rubble. He noticed a few people had somehow gotten outside and even as he tried to identify them, a familiar face looked at him with pure hatred and he found himself turning tail and running.

He didn't know how far or how long he ran. His feet and legs just worked mechanically under him and he collapsed beside a fence, completely drained and exhausted. His vision flickered and he made out two pairs of feet running towards him. He didn't have the strength to look up at his savior, nor did he have the strength to answer the questions that were urgently thrown at him.

Whoever it was shook his shoulders desperately, calling his name over and over again. Wait a minute, how did this person know his name? They had just met. He didn't even know who they were, so how did they know his name? Who-

"Wake up you freaking curlycue!"

Sanji jolted awake, eyes darting around the dimly lit room, brain on overdrive, body sweating buckets. He shuddered and clutched his chest, his beating heart hammering away against his ribcage. As his breathing slowed, he turned to look at the man beside him, holding him tightly against his chest and stroking his back soothingly, as he murmured words of reassurance. Sanji heaved a sigh and snuggled into the warmth that enveloped him. He studied the three gold earrings for a moment, before he finally spoke, "The same nightmare again huh."

"Mm.. You were screaming and thrashing around. Hard to believe it's been four years already."

"Yeah.. Sorry.."

"Why are you apologizing idiot."

"Ah, that's right.. I remember how it ended.."

"Hmm?"

"I remember waking up exactly the same way and you were right here doing the exact same thing and telling me everything was going to be alright."

"And I'll continue doing it no matter how many times you get that nightmare."

"Yeah.."

Sanji shifted into a more comforting position and sighed contentedly as the man rocked him back and forth, like a mother pacifying her wailing child.

"What day is it today?"

"Oh that's right, happy Valentine's day!"

Sanji laughed and pulled back to look at the other's face. He smiled fondly and leaned in to rest his forehead against the other man's. He didn't mind going through that horrible nightmare his entire life, if it meant waking up in the embrace of those strong, warm arms and that deep, gentle voice. Not a day passed where he didn't thank the stars for the unfortunate tragedy that let him meet this person, his most precious thing that he would give his life for. His very own piece of art crafted to perfection in the form of a large, loud man with moss for hair and a heart of gold. He couldn't possibly want any other gift than the man holding him tightly against his chest.

"Happy Valentine's day Marimo."

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**A/m: Happy Valentine's day again to all the precious, _precious_ ZoSan fans!**

**Stay tuned for an update on my story And Then There Were Two!**


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